Every single member of my side of the family is extraordinarily hairy. Scientists are looking for the missing link, right? Well, here we are. Family reunions consist of nit picking in the lousiest sense. Then we grunt and eat.
I've shaved and plucked and nuked and waxed. I'd list all the areas on my body where these acts have taken place but I'm posting in the evening before all of you would be going to bed and I won't be blamed for your lack of sleep. Counting sheep would be less woolly than I am.
The only reason I've stopped short of lasering and more electrolysis is that the first one won't work because my hairs are going gray and both of them are time consuming and expensive.
Instead I bought an epilator.
Pain? Yes, I like pain. I love it. I want more of it.
So...it's plugged in...shall we get to it?
On my legs. MY LEGS. Geez.
Fine, my legs aren't as sasquatch as I've intimated. Other parts of me are. Like my face. If I hadn't have taken a bic razor to my face just today I might have taken a picture of that hot mess. Let's just say that I am not exaggerating when I say I'd look much like this:
My husband wouldn't care if I grew a beard. He loves me enough to say nothing about me growing out my leg hair all winter. Besides, when it gets long enough it's sort of soft and silky.
Well, here goes.
It's loud. It's louder on the faster speed. Both speeds hurt like a sunuvabitch!
...and then it felt awesome.
...and then I transcended pain and went right onto ooh, that's smooth!
...and then I fell down into the depths of despair again because my new toy got dirty.
Next I'm doing my belly button!